


Tragic Flaw

by LibbyLune



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, First Time, Getting Together, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Post-Time Skip, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 03:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyLune/pseuds/LibbyLune
Summary: Hamartia: The flaw that precipitates the fall of a tragic heroHeroism kills - there’s a reason Luffy doesn’t like the word.  Sanji just never expected it to actually happen, and certainly didn't expect to be responsible for the aftermath.





	Tragic Flaw

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm new to writing/posting fanfic and would love someone to bounce ideas off of/light beta-reading, so if you enjoy that kind of thing please contact me! Any feedback is much appreciated for that reason as well ^^

  
Thunder shakes the sky, lightning crackling through the dark clouds, but the rain still doesn’t fall. The wind whips through the Sunny’s sails, snapping them every which way. Above them, yet far too close for comfort, the clouds loom unmoving and heavy despite the tearing gusts. It’s the most unnatural storm that Sanji has ever seen, that any of them have ever seen.

  
They’re caught in the middle of a tropical archipelago, all lush forested islands ringed by turquoise-blue waters. Everyone at the last island warned them to choose a different route, to work through the difficulties of a weaker log pose directive rather than sail here. But none of them take well to warnings, and between Luffy’s lust for adventure and the affront Nami took to her navigation skills, their course was long since set. Robin’s expression sharpened with curiosity, Franky boasted that of course the Thousand Sunny would weather any storm, and Usopp’s anxious stammering went unheeded.

  
If Nami-san was offended, then Sanji would support her in any way! He would sail through any number of storms, with no thought of danger under her more than capable direction! He would- Nami cut him off there, ordering everyone to make ready to sail. Zoro slept through the whole discussion.

  
Uninhabited, the villagers at the last island said first. No reason to go, nothing to see, their wary expressions deepening when the lack of details only inspired more questions. Cursed, they reluctantly elaborated - no one comes back, no one sails through. Wreckage washes up sometimes, they added; the archipelago is close, the currents bring the ships back. Never with crew, never even with bodies.

  
It’s a gateway to death, one fisherman says, cowed by Nami’s insistant questioning. They drop that phrase later in the bar, and it’s the key to open everyone’s mouths. A way into hell, a path to certain death, a broken place in the ocean where you can fall straight into the afterlife.

  
“There’s no such thing as hell,” Zoro scoffs, sliding down the bar and demanding another drink. Nami rolls her eyes when the villagers aren’t looking, but asks a few more questions; Robin seems happy to play along with the legend as long as she can dig deeper into the history of it. They’ve heard a lot of strange rumors, travelling the Grand Line, and the New World is even stranger, but there’s always an explanation.

  
“You don’t believe in an afterlife?” Sanji asks idly, half an eye on the room and half on his angels. He doesn’t need to look at Zoro to picture the expression that goes with the swordsman’s answering scoff.

  
“Even if there is, you can’t get there from some random crack in reality,” Zoro says, heavy mockery coloring his voice as he repeats another phrase they’ve heard that night. “Dead is dead.”

  
Sanji hums, now entirely preoccupied with the way the low light in the bar plays across Nami-san’s radiant hair. Nearby, Usopp launches into a tall tale. The rest of the night passed like any other.

  
Now, clinging to the rigging, trying to adjust the sails according to Nami-san’s wishes, Sanji wonders if they shouldn’t have taken the villagers a little more seriously. Another crash of thunder drowns out part of her orders, the accompanying flash of lightning casting black shadows like a net over the ship. Glancing down, Sanji sees Franky rushing belowdecks.

  
“Everyone hang on!” Nami screams, her voice cutting through a lull in the thunder.

  
The ship lurches, Coup de Burst launching them partially out of the water, and the storm responds like a living thing. A predator, unwilling to see its prey escape. The wildest gust yet drives headlong into the Sunny, breaking their momentum as soon as it begins. As they crash back into the ocean, Sanji sees Luffy fall out of the rigging, bouncing in his safety line; down on the deck, a chain of Robin’s hands keep Brook from flying away.

  
The rain starts, heavy enough to make up for the delay. The winds redouble, and waterspouts begin to form around the ship. Sanji doesn’t know anything about weather, not like their perfect Nami-san, but this cannot be how it’s supposed to work.

  
It’s harder to hear Nami’s directions in the pounding rain, harder to move through the wet ropes and sails. A line snaps, whipping across Sanji’s wrist. Feeling skin tear, seeing blood wash across his hand, he forces himself not to think about it. He can still move his fingers, and if they all die it won’t matter what happens to his hands.

  
Sanji moves to help Zoro with the mainsail, creeping as quickly as he can across the rigging. Their swordsman is glaring up at the storm with his teeth bared, looking nearly as fierce as he does when he’s fighting a truly challenging opponent. Sanji shivers, the seriousness of the situation leaning heavier on his mind.

  
Zoro zeroes in on the slash across Sanji’s wrist as soon as he’s within sight, but there’s no time to do anything about it. They both understand that raw survival is what’s on the line, and it’s not like them to worry over each other anyway.

  
The rain continues, pelting down in an icy mix. Sanji begins to shiver with cold, and his wet hair drags over his eyes, his soaked clothes hindering his movements. At the edge of his vision, Zoro shakes like a dog. The muscles in his back bunch, clearly outlined by his own clinging shirt. At times like these Sanji appreciates the marimo’s stupid training regimine. Brute force has its place.

  
It feels like ages, but probably only minutes pass before the two of them get everything fastened the way Nami directed. Sanji risks a look around, taking in the greening sky, darkening clouds, and swelling waterspouts. The waves heave, leaving Sanji’s stomach behind for a few moments of weightlessness each time the ship rises and falls.

  
“Okay, curly?” Zoro asks. Sanji gives a curt nod, and that’s all the time Zoro has for him, single eye scanning for the rest of the crew. Sanji’s hand throbs as he does his own search, anxiety high in his throat until he’s laid eyes on all of them. Nami is yelling into the ship, presumably at Franky, the only one Sanji cannot see.

  
The Thousand Sunny continues to shake, wood creaking as the storm tosses the ship like a leaf. Sanji leans into each snap and lurch as best he can, trying to keep his grip steady. There’s a lot of force behind each tipping motion, and he doesn’t want to trust his safety line to hold unless he has to.

  
A tap on his shoulder, and Sanji turns back to the main mast, seeing Robin’s hand and mouth there. “Navigator-san has asked Franky to prepare another Coup de Burst,” she advises. “Perhaps this time will break us free. Or perhaps this island truly is a gate to death,” she adds, the dark humor falling a little flatter than usual.

  
Zoro narrows his eye at the mast as flower petals signal Robin’s departure. His expression turns considering, and he scans their surroundings, ending with a long look at the rope around his waist. Rope, clouds, the heaving seas, rope again. An extra chill goes down Sanji’s spine as Zoro gives an exploratory bounce on an up-swing, his feet lifting weightlessly despite the grip of his hands as the ship plummets back down.

  
“What are you thinking, idiot marimo?” Sanji snaps. That calculating look usually precedes some truly insane plans.

  
Zoro just frowns at him, taking one hand off the rigging to move Wado into his mouth. Of course the moss-brain is still wearing his swords through all this.

  
“Zoro!” Sanji says again. Zoro’s plans are always some refrain on cut first, think later. Usually with a hopelessly reckless disregard for his own safety.

  
Another sword drawn, and the Sunny begins to tilt up another massive wave. “We have to get out of this,” Zoro says, not looking at Sanji as he climbs up onto the yardarm. “Coup de Burst won’t be enough.”

  
“What-” Thunder roars, drowning out Sanji’s desperate retort. Shadows from the lightning make it look like Zoro is wearing his bandanna, his stance widening in preparation for a fight.

  
What is Zoro going to fight up here? The clouds are black above them, feeling nearly low enough to touch the Sunny’s mast. The largest waterspout is creeping nearer, its path steady through all the crosswinds. As the Thousand Sunny crests the latest wave, Zoro jumps, the momentum from the ship throwing him into the air.

  
Sanji screams, watching Zoro draw his third sword and cut through his own safety line in one smooth motion. He can’t look away. Zoro seems to float for a moment, and then he unleashes one of his inexplicable sword techniques, sending a slash that Sanji has seen slice through opponents and mountains alike into the heart of the storm.

  
A clear space opens at the bow of the ship, a ribbon of blue in the sickening green darkness. The force seems to shock the storm into silence, though the rain keeps drumming down and the winds don’t cease. Sanji hears yelling on the deck below, and then the back end of the Sunny glows.

  
This time the Coup de Burst launches them forward and through the gap. Sanji whips around, just in time to spot Zoro’s shrinking form silhouetted in the sky. Lightning flashes around him, faster and brighter than ever, and then - strikes Zoro’s raised swords.

  
His body begins to fall. The Sunny flies onward, the clouds rolling back in to fill the wound Zoro inflicted. The ship shoots over the nearest bit of the archipelago, and even as they escape its range the storm begins to fade.  
The Thousand Sunny lands on a reef just past the island with a great splintering crash. Sanji barely hears it over the ringing in his ears. Hanging loosely in the rigging, he stares back the way they came, but there’s nothing to see except palm trees and bright blue ocean.

  
“SANJI!”

  
“Sanji-kun!”

  
“Cook-bro!”

  
Sanji tears his eyes away, and looks down to his nakama gathering on the deck. Chopper rolls onto the scene in Guard Point, Usopp is scrambling to his feet where he was thrown against the rail, Robin is disentangling Luffy from his safety line. Luffy isn’t doing much to help her, and finally shrugs out of the last loops to grapple onto Sanji as he stumbles down to the deck.

  
They all huddle on the grass for long moments, quiet. No one is quite ready to face what’s happened. Finally Franky stands, removing the comforting hand he’d laid on Usopp’s shoulder.  
“I - Sunny,” he says. “She’s tough, but-”

  
Nami nods, and Franky hurries away. The ship is lodged at a bit of an angle, and the water around them is very shallow. Not too much looks broken up on deck, but all that noise of cracking wood had to come from somewhere.

  
“We may be here a while,” Robin says quietly.

  
Usopp wraps his arms around himself, nervous gaze darting between them all. “I’m gonna help Franky,” he blurts out, with another pass around the circle making their missing link all too obvious.

  
Standing unresisting in Luffy’s grasp, Sanji feels blood drip down his fingers. It doesn’t feel important.

  
“Tea, I think,” Brook says, scurrying into the galley.

  
The rest of them stand staring across the nearby island, not meeting each other’s eyes. Luffy’s grip loosens until he’s draped over Sanji’s shoulders instead of wrapped around his waist, and Chopper resumes his usual form. Robin absently strokes their little doctor’s ears.

  
“Tea,” Nami says firmly. She makes eye contact with each of them in turn, until they shake off the shock enough to file into the galley.

  
Brook is just pouring cups for everyone. There’s one extra, the usual nine. Usopp rejoins them as they settle around the table.

  
“The hull…” he begins, and Sanji sees a dark pain pass through his expression. “Well, Sunny is a good ship, and Franky did a great job, but there’s still some damage. Franky says he can fix it, but it will take a week or two. The keel… her keel isn’t cracked or anything.”

  
Nami lets out a low sigh of relief at that, and a bit of the fog lifts. Sunny won’t go the same way as Merry. They’ve… they’ve only lost one nakama, today.

  
Sanji flinches at the thought. No one has acknowledged Zoro’s absence yet, but the marimo should be right here, complaining about the tea and demanding booze instead.

  
“Okay,” Luffy says. There’s a weird tone to his voice, and a blank seriousness to his expression that Sanji has never seen. It’s different from the determined look he’s used to, when their captain has decided who to beat up to solve a problem. There’s no direction this time. “Let’s go find Zoro.”

  
Everyone shudders. Usopp and Chopper burst into tears. Brook turns away to fuss with the teapot, and Robin freezes with an empty expression. Sanji’s bloody fingers slip on the thin porcelain of his teacup. He needs a cigarette.

  
“Luffy…” Nami begins. “We all saw. Even Zoro couldn’t have-”

  
“Zoro’s strong,” Luffy interrupts mulishly. “But it will take too long for him to find his way back, so we have to go get him.”

  
“The marimo’s dead, Luffy,” Sanji snarls, with a sharp gesture that sends blood splattering across the table. “Even that muscle-headed idiot couldn’t survive getting struck by lightning and then drowning.” Not to mention hitting the ocean from that height, and the rest of the storm.

  
Luffy glares at him, a more familiar expression. Usopp shuts up and even Robin looks startled. Chopper stares at the blood dirtying the table.

  
“Sanji, your hand-”

  
“We’re going!” Luffy commands.

  
“Of course we’re going!” Sanji yells. “But we’re not gonna find him alive!”

  
Probably won’t find him dead either, but they have to try.

  
“I’ll accompany you,” Robin says. “Although perhaps we should all dry off and do what we can to collect ourselves, first.”

  
Sanji blinks. It’s true, they’re sitting around dripping onto the floor, all bedraggled hair and damp clothes.

  
“Infirmary!” Chopper demands, determination and the routine of his job replacing some of the sadness on his face. “All of you!”

  
Chopper herds Sanji into his infirmary first, and bandages his wrist. It’s deep but the wound didn’t hit any tendons or anything, so Chopper assures him it will heal well. The stinging recedes, and Sanji manages to offer Chopper a lukewarm thanks before going to change.

  
He runs into Usopp in the men’s room and the coward skitters away from him, refusing to look him in the eyes and babbling something unintelligible before racing for the door. Sanji glares at his back, and Usopp suddenly stops, peering around the doorframe.

  
“Do you really think - I mean, I agree, but - it’s too hard to think about, what are we gonna do -” Usopp cuts himself off, raising his eyes to Sanji’s for half a second before staring back down at the floorboards.

  
The halfhearted ire he’d mustered towards Usopp drains away, and Sanji bites back a sigh. He refuses to process it yet. Stages of grief or whatever, but there’s no time for that now. “Yeah,” is all he says, trying to keep his voice modulated. Yelling at Usopp is never productive.

  
“But we’ll… we’ll figure it out.” It? Life without one of their nakama? Life without moss inconveniently asleep all over the deck, or playing with Chopper, or standing calm in the middle of Luffy’s whirlwind idiosyncrasies?

  
“Yeah!” Usopp repeats, with watery enthusiasm. His lip trembles. “We’re the Straw Hat Crew, nothing can keep us - can keep us down…”

  
Swallowing another sigh, Sanji pulls a dry shirt over his shoulders and walks over to Usopp, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Have you seen Chopper yet?”

  
Usopp sniffles and shakes his head.

  
“I’ll walk with you.” Sanji adjusts his grip, keeping a hand on Usopp as they head to the infirmary. For Usopp’s benefit, he tells himself, but the contact is grounding for Sanji too. Letting Usopp in to see Chopper, he can hear the two of them sobbing before the door fully closes.

  
Once he finishes changing, Sanji feels like some of the shock has lifted. He’s ready to do something, needs to help somehow. So he goes to the galley, takes stock of damages here - not much, not with the way he keeps everything stored - and makes lunch. Sanji isn’t sure what time it is, but the crew will need to eat.

  
He puts together some bentos too. Who knows how long Luffy will want to spend on the island; he’ll get hungry no matter what.

  
Everyone files in when he calls, clean and dry. Sanji counts heads and starts to storm over to the door, ready to yell at Zoro to wake up before he remembers. Even though he tries to disguise the motion as something, anything else, a few of his nakama flinch.

  
It’s a quiet meal. Nami rattles off some information about the island’s climate, the facts she’s gleaned from her observations over the last hour, but doesn’t mention inescapable freak storms. Franky eats almost as quickly as Luffy and leaves again, dragging Usopp with him. Sanji fawns over his angels as well as he can, but the usual spark isn’t there.

“Captain,” Robin says, pushing her plate away. “Shall we go?”

  
Luffy nods, and stands with a look of cold determination.

  
“I’ll clean up in here, Sanji-kun,” Nami says.

  
“My dear, I couldn’t possibly ask you-”

  
“Go,” she says, rolling her eyes with a pale smile. It’s a weak impression of their normal interactions, but still soothing.

  
Sanji goes, piling into the Mini Merry with Robin and Luffy.

  
“We’ll be back once we’ve found Zoro,” Luffy promises, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

  
Brook joins them as they leave and ends up steering, but stops the little boat a few yards from the shore.

  
“I do apologize,” Brook whispers, staring out over the last stretch of crystal blue water over white sand, the lush plants beyond. “I believe I must stop here, my friends.”

  
“Skeleton-san?” Robin asks.

  
“Something in my gut tells me I must not set foot on that island, oho, though I do not have-”

  
“Perhaps it truly is an island of death,” Robin muses. “If so, it would be fitting that the undead should not visit.”

  
Brook sobers up, nodding. “I do not like the feeling, Robin-san. It is as if my connection to these old bones becomes more tenuous by the moment. The impossibility of my existence is a heavy weight, here.”

  
Luffy is instantly engaged at that, whipping around to pin Brook with a concerned frown. “Brook should go back,” he declares. “Put your bone connections back how they go. We’re close enough.”

  
Sanji has enough time to crack a smile at their captain’s vague instructions, and then Luffy wraps an arm around him and Robin, grabbing at the trees on the shore with the other. They zoom across, thumping into the sand.

  
“Oh my,” Robin laughs, brushing herself off.

  
“Have a care for the lady,” Sanji mutters, kicking Luffy a little. “Robin-chwan, you’re not hurt, are you?”

  
“No, no,” she assures him over Luffy’s snickering. “That is always a bit of a rush, isn’t it?”

  
“Let’s goooo!” Luffy yells, dragging them down the beach. The light is back in his eyes, now that they’re ashore and doing something. Sanji takes a deep breath, what feels like his first one all day. Luffy’s determination is contagious, and the relief from taking action is addictive.

  
The island is small, part of a chain that completes most of a circle, all well within eyeshot from the inner curve. The rest of the archipelago all looks the same, white sand beaches and healthy vegetation surrounded by turquoise waters and shallow reefs. In the center, there’s a dark blue spot, barely a ship’s-length across but obviously deep.

  
Sanji eyes it warily as they jog around the coast, seeing Robin do the same. The air is hot and humid, but that deep water feels cold.

  
Luffy swings between palm trees, occasionally shooting off into the undergrowth and coming back with flowers dropping from his hair. He rolls out of the bushes again just as Robin and Sanji reach a stream, the first change they’ve yet found in the scenery.

  
“This way,” Luffy says, bounding toward the stream.

  
“Why?” Sanji asks.

  
“Feels right.”

  
Sharing a glance with Robin, Sanji shrugs and follows. Their captain is a man of instinct, and he’s usually right. The stream is shallow and cool, when Sanji takes off his shoes to walk in its bed rather than leapfrogging across it like Luffy. Robin picks her way along the bank more sedately, running her hands along vibrant leaves.

  
The water eventually deepens, and Sanji steps out at the edge of a wide pool, full of tiny fish with a bubbling spring at one end. More noteworthy is the wreckage of a ship, partially fallen into disrepair with tropical plants growing up around and through it.

  
Only partially. It’s obvious that the central structure of the ship has been maintained, with additions to accommodate the way it’s braced at an off angle. A small porch, a door in the hull, orchids in bits of net hung along the rails.

  
There’s a girl on the porch, moonlight pale with long silver hair. She stands quietly as they stumble to a halt, just watching.

  
“Hello, adventurers,” she says, and Sanji tries to put an age to her, to make sense of her presence here. Luffy’s age, perhaps? Certainly not as old as Robin, but she’s so calm and composed that he can’t help but make the comparison. The girl’s eyes are as deep as that spot out in the ocean.

  
“Hi!” Luffy says, bounding over to her. “We’re looking for our nakama. He’s got green hair and likes to sleep a lot, have you seen him?”

  
“I saw.”

  
Robin frowns at that, but Sanji hardly notices as she loops her arm through his and walks them both up to the edge of the porch. He’s too busy looking at the girl’s shimmering hair, the thin bones of her wrists, the gleam of her teeth as she smiles.

“Great!” Luffy exclaims. “Thanks, lady! Where’d he go?”

  
“Who are you?” Robin interrupts.

  
“Robin,” Luffy whines. “She’s gonna tell us where Zoro went.”

  
“I am the Hamartia,” the girl tells Robin.

  
“A revealing name,” Robin says, cool in the way she used to be, when she was just recently Miss All-Sunday and didn’t trust them yet. Sanji shakes his head and looks at her, concerned.

  
“To some,” the Hamartia responds. “Tell me, are you heroes?”

  
“No,” Luffy answers, sitting sullenly on the porch. “We’re pirates. Now tell me where you saw Zoro.”

  
“Miss… Hamartia, was it?” Sanji says, trying out his brightest smile. It feels a little wrong. “Please forgive my captain’s manners. You said you saw our crewmate? We wouldn’t dream of taking up more of your time-”

  
“As he fell.”

  
Sanji blanches, and hears Luffy growl from the floor.

  
“It’s quite unusual for someone to come looking,” she continues. “I have never seen anything like your escape. Your lost friend’s actions are worthy of song.”

  
“Zoro doesn’t want a song,” Luffy says. “We need to find him.”

  
“As I said,” the Hamartia says, cocking her head at them. “He fell. What good would it do to find him now?”

  
“We can’t just leave him,” Sanji says weakly. Robin watches the Hamartia with cold eyes, not exactly a glare but still dangerous.

  
“Would you take his corpse with you? Your friend sank into the Lost Blue. It would be a heroic undertaking indeed to retrieve him from there.”

  
Luffy snarls at that, and Sanji grabs his shoulders, feeling like the floor has been torn out from under them. He knows the marimo is dead, but it hurts to hear from this strange girl.

  
“Tell me about these islands,” Robin demands, and Sanji is chilled by her composure. Luffy is shaking beneath his hands.

  
“This is the Reef of Souls,” the Hamartia says with an expansive gesture. “A place very close to death. Many sailors fall into the Lost Blue, and their ships break apart on the reef.”

  
“The Lost Blue - that is the sinkhole in the center of this atoll?” Robin asks. “How deep does it go?”

  
“Yes. Its depth is difficult to measure. The descent into death leaves the exact details of this world behind.”

  
Sanji doesn’t like that name. He doesn’t like any of this, not the confirmation of Zoro’s death or the trembling of his captain or the way Robin sounds like she already knows so much more than the Hamartia has said. He doesn’t like the obvious holes in what she has said, the omissions that would finalize their loss.

  
A heroic undertaking to retrieve him, the lady said. A gateway into death, according to the villagers. A sinkhole that leaves this world behind. Sanji takes a shuddering breath. “This Lost Blue, that’s where the shit-swordsman is?”

  
The Hamartia nods.

  
“And death is at the bottom?”

  
“There are other words for it.”

  
“Whatever. If I go down there, can I bring that idiot back without the death part?”

  
“There are legends where the hero saves a beloved person from the afterlife,” Robin muses. Sanji doesn’t look at her, or Luffy, who he can feel staring a hole into the bottom of his chin. He wouldn’t call Zoro a beloved person, but this is necessary.

  
“This is not a thing just anyone can do for a friend,” the Hamartia warns, and it’s enough confirmation that Luffy sucks in a harsh breath, and Robin makes a fascinated sound beside him.

  
“I’ll get there,” Sanji mutters. He’s not sure where the certainty comes from; the marimo is not even his friend. But they’re nakama, and that’s more important, isn’t it?

  
“I want to go!” Luffy yelps, springing to his feet. “Hama- the Ham-lady, mmm ham, tell us how to get there!”

  
“You can’t swim!” Sanji snaps, whacking the back of Luffy’s head. “I have to be the one to do this, idiot captain.”

  
It’s easy enough to figure out. Half the crew can’t swim; Sanji honestly isn’t sure if Franky can either, even beyond the ones who are Devil Fruit users. Not as well as Sanji, that’s for sure. He could never expect Nami to do something this dangerous, and Sanji can already hear Usopp in his head, declaiming why he’s perfect for the task even while trembling in fear. No, Sanji has to go.

  
“Cook-san,” Robin says softly. “This is not something to choose lightly.”

  
“I’ve told the marimo to go to hell enough times,” Sanji grins. “Time to go bring him back. Just like that idiot to get lost.”

  
She meets his eyes, so seriously that he can hardly stand it. “Knowing my beloved Robin-chwan is thinking of me, I’ll be back with that shitty mossball before you know it!”

  
“Sanjiiiii!” Luffy whoops, leaping on him. “I told you! We’re gonna find him!”

  
Sanji doesn’t have the heart to throw him off the way he usually would. He doesn’t say that taking their swordsman back from death is a little more dramatic than just finding him. This is why he has to do it, even if he and Zoro never get along. Anything he can do to protect his crew, to protect his captain; Sanji wasn’t there the last time Luffy lost someone, but this time he can make a difference.

  
The Hamartia is taken aback by their sudden cheer, blinking pale lashes over her dark eyes. She smiles though, brushing long hair back from her face as she steps toward them. “The beginning is simple,” she says. “As you realized, you must travel through the Lost Blue. Pray that your conviction carries you down before you need to draw breath again.”

  
“Simple,” Robin repeats with a disapproving frown. “And yet I feel we are missing some critical details.”

  
“Those few who make it here always try,” she shrugs. “Ideas of heroism, of saving those lost. That is not enough, and the way down is different for each circumstance. You have said you are not heroes. Perhaps you will go with clearer eyes.”

  
Sanji isn’t really into the eerie soothsayer bit. Whatever she is, the Hamartia is lovely, but he’s ready to get out of her sight. Something tells him she’s not a lady it’s appropriate for him to fawn over, as unbelievable as that sounds.

  
“Yosh!” Luffy exclaims, settling his feet on the ground and reaching for Sanji and Robin. “We’ll see you later, ham-lady! Thanks!”

  
Yet again, Luffy takes off through the forest before Sanji has time to do much more than yelp. He releases them onto the soft sand of the beach, warm and peaceful in the late afternoon sunlight and sound of lapping waves. Luffy bounds to the edge of the water and Sanji would follow him, but Robin holds him back.

  
“Yes, Robin-chwan? Can I get you something before going after our lost marimo?” Maybe she’ll give him a token for good luck; maybe even a kiss. Maybe Robin noticed his selfless chivalry in chasing the idiot swordsman at all, and she’s finally seen his value as a lover-

  
“The Hamartia,” Robin says, and Sanji has trouble picturing the girl, even though they left only moments ago. “Does her name mean anything to you?”

  
Sanji shakes his head.

  
“It’s an old word,” Robin tells him, with a serious gaze. Sanji preens a little under her attention. “A term for the flaws that bring about the fall of heroes.”

  
“Robin-chwan is so well-read!” Sanji says.

  
“We’re not heroes,” Luffy mutters from the waterline.

  
Robin casts a fond glance in their captain’s direction. “Not in the traditional sense, perhaps,” she murmurs. “But tell me, Cook-san, what might cause you to fail this trip into death?”

  
“Sanji won’t fail!” Luffy exclaims, looking back at them with a stubborn expression. “Right, Sanji? You’re gonna bring Zoro back for me, and then we’ll have a party. With lots of meat. The ham-lady can come too.”

  
“Of course, captain.” Sanji rolls his eyes. He’s not sure what Robin means - Sanji knows he isn’t perfect. He has a foul mouth and a short temper - but never with the ladies! - he smokes too much and likes to fight. That thought stings; the marimo is Sanji’s favorite person to fight with. None of those flaws are enough to make him fail Luffy.

  
“A hamartia is often something like pride,” Robin says. “A strong motivator that brings the hero to the wrong course of action. It is not always an obvious flaw. Remember where you’re going, Cook-san, and what you have to do.”

  
“It’ll be easy!” Luffy insists. “Just swim there, find Zoro, and bring him back!”

  
“I’ll certainly be mindful of your words, Robin-chan!” Sanji twirls over to her, kissing her hand before joining Luffy at the water’s edge. He’s done these things a thousand times before, swimming after one crewmate or another and hunting down lost marimos.

  
Luffy meets his eyes with a troubled frown, gripping the brim of his hat.

  
“I’ll find him,” Sanji promises, barely louder than the gently lapping waves.

  
With a wail, Luffy wraps his arms around Sanji in a suffocating hug, and Sanji meets Robin’s eyes over their captain’s head.

  
“I’ll look after him,” Robin mouths, and Sanji pries Luffy off.

  
“Come back soon!” Luffy demands.

  
Sanji takes off his shoes and jacket. “Before you know it,” he says, placing them at the base of the nearest palm tree. He loosens his tie, and after a moment of consideration, leaves that too. Who’s he trying to impress, tropical fish and their marimo?

  
It’s awkward to wade out into the shallows, slogging through the long stretch of warm cerulean water while Luffy yells encouragement behind him. Sanji doesn’t look back, doesn’t respond; he feels like it’s time to concentrate on where he’s headed. Finally the water deepens, bits of reef breaking the monotony of white sand, and Sanji ducks his head under to really swim.

  
Rushing silence, Luffy’s voice drowned out under the waves. Kick, stroke, breathe, kick, stroke, breathe, and in no time at all Sanji reaches the edge of the Lost Blue.

  
Treading water, Sanji stares into the depths beneath his feet. The color is much more dynamic here than it was from the shore, the expressionless dark filled with shafts of light and flashing schools of fish. The coral reefs tumble over the edge, spreading down the sides of the sinkhole in a riot of colors. Even though the water is crystal clear, the expanse of the Lost Blue eventually swallows the vibrant ecosystem in darkness. Sanji takes a few deep breaths, and dives.

  
He’s always been a strong swimmer. Slicing through the water is easy; Sanji moves through cooler currents, watching the sunlight narrow into bright shafts as the pressure increases. He glances up, seeing the light rippling across the surface far above, and vaguely recognizes that this is the turning point. He has to go up for air or commit to the belief that there’s something to find farther down.

  
As he looks back, his gaze catches on a flash of white and silver in the reef just a little deeper. It can only be one thing. Sanji dives again.

  
There, caught in a cluster of fan corals, is Zoro’s sword. Wado Ichimonji, and more than either of the others Sanji knows he cannot leave this sword here. Zoro would dive straight back into death to retrieve it, if he did.  
Still, Sanji hesitates, unable to remember if he’s ever touched Zoro’s swords - this sword in particular. It feels wrong to reach for it, Sanji’s own hand looking as pale as the white hilt in the filtered blue of the water.  
Grabbing the sword with renewed determination, Sanji kicks deeper. The shafts of sunlight slim down to nothing, the temperature drops, and Sanji’s eyes begin to blur from lack of oxygen. Light creeps in at the edges, black flecks shudder across his vision. The pressure makes it easier to remember not to gasp for breath, despite his desperate need.

  
How far does he need to go? Sanji grits his teeth, resisting the urge to look above him. It’s too late to reach the surface, and he can’t go back without the idiot marimo anyway. He can’t fail, can’t let himself drown here in this endless drop and leave Luffy with two lost crewmates. It can’t be much farther.

  
Wado feels heavy in his hand, pulling him deeper. The darkness is so complete that Sanji can barely make out the shining white and silver. He closes his eyes and swims, knowing he’s down to a last few strokes.  
He has to find Zoro. They need the swordsman. Alone in the darkness Sanji can admit that he needs Zoro, personally; needs the challenge and familiar ease of their rivalry. This is not the time to lose him.

  
It’s too hard to feel anything beyond pressure and cold. Sanji is no longer sure if he’s even moving, and he can’t concentrate on anything but the burning in his chest. He gasps, and even as his last breath rushes out of him in a wash of bubbles, he gets a sensation of falling and fresh air hits his lungs.

  
Quickly followed by his body hitting the ground. Sanji snaps his eyes open and scrambles up, nearly slicing his own leg off with Wado forgotten in his grip. Once he’s worked out how to manage his oxygen-starved limbs and the sword, he looks around.

  
It’s not what he expected. Sanji is too thankful to be breathing to criticize, but the scenery is… normal. He’d expected fire and brimstone, maybe? Something fantastic like Skypeia, or crowds of the dead trying to stop him from reaching Zoro. But there’s only a meadow, flowing green into the distance, the tall grass and wildflowers moving like waves. The sun shines down, wisps of clouds whirling across the sky; as Sanji gazes up they begin to look more and more like schools of silver fish flashing in the light, the pattern of the blue more like the view of sunlight striking the ocean from beneath it, so he looks away.

  
There’s nothing else, and then there’s a girl. She’s ten, maybe eleven years old, standing a few paces away from Sanji and staring at the sword in his hand.

  
Like finding Wado on the way down, Sanji knows who she must be at a glance. She has no such sense of surreal familiarity, however.

  
“Who are you?” the girl demands. “Give me my sword.”

  
“I can’t,” Sanji says, backing away. Isn’t it ironic that this is the first girl he’s ever said no to, when Zoro mocks him for his love at every turn? “Zoro still needs it. He dropped it when he fell, but I found it on my way here. I have to give it back to him.”

  
She frowns, looking around. “How do you know Zoro? What does he need the Wado Ichimonji for, if you’re looking for him here?”

  
“He’s my… crewmate,” Sanji says. “It’s complicated, but it’s not right for him to die now, not when I have a chance to save him. So I can’t give you the sword. The mossy idiot will need it when we go back.”

  
She snickers at that. “Even my Wado can’t help Zoro. He’s hopeless. My name is Kuina,” she introduces herself, “and Zoro never beat me, not once.”

  
“I heard,” Sanji grins. “I’m Sanji. The marimo’s come a long way, but I’m sure you would still kick his ass.”

  
Kuina nods. “I’ll help you find him. This place…” she looks around, taking in the endless waves of grass and shifting sky. “It’s not what it seems. But you have the sword, so we should be fine.”

  
“Thanks,” Sanji says. “So we just, what? Walk?”

  
“How long has it been?” Kuina asks, looking at Wado again.

  
Sanji hesitates. He’s not exactly sure; the marimo doesn’t like to talk about it. “A long time.”

  
“Let me hold Wado.”

  
It’s against his nature to be suspicious of a lady, even a dead little girl, but Sanji is reluctant to let the sword out of his hands. “How do I know you’re…” Real? Is anything real here? This whole thing could be some kind of trick; Kuina - if it’s really her - has offered to help him, but why? After the Hamartia and Robin’s warnings Sanji is wary of misstepping.

  
“I can’t prove anything to you,” Kuina says. “It’s smart to be careful, you don’t belong here after all. You took a risk to come, but you didn’t think that would be the only one, did you?”

  
“I guess not,” Sanji sighs. “But the marimo will kill me if I lose this sword. Touchy bastard.”

  
“I should beat him up myself for dropping Wado in the ocean,” Kuina mutters, eyes back on the blade. That more than anything reminds Sanji of Zoro, and all the meticulous maintenance he performs on his weapons. Her eyes have the same focus.

  
“Why do you want it?” he asks.

  
“I think it will help me understand,” Kuina answers simply. “I’ll give it right back.”

  
Sanji doesn’t have a solid reason to refuse her, beyond unfounded suspicion of the situation in general. He wants to trust Kuina; he’s a sentimental fool a lot of the time, after all, and it feels right to believe in this girl who was so important to Zoro when he’s here to bring the swordsman back. So Sanji hands her Wado, feeling vindicated when Kuina smiles and doesn’t vanish or run away. The blade is exaggeratedly long in her small hands, but it looks more natural than the sword did in his own.

  
“He’s done a lot, hasn’t he,” Kuina says, staring at the sword. Sanji wonders what she’s seeing - the care Zoro puts into the sword, or memories of its use?

  
“He’s gonna be the best,” Sanji replies. Zoro will be the greatest swordsman. Luffy will be king of the pirates. Somewhere along the line, Sanji has given both of those statements the same weight of certainty.

  
“Let’s find him,” Kuina says. Sanji nods, and takes back Wado Ichimonji when Kuina offers it.

  
They walk. The scenery doesn’t change, pleasant sunshine and the sweet scent of wildflowers in the air. The texture of the grasses is wrong, parting softly around their legs, the ground level and easily traversed beneath it. Sanji doesn’t look too far in any direction, unnerved by the way everything looks more like the ocean the farther he tries to see. He chats with Kuina instead, asking about the childhood she shared with Zoro and telling her about life on the sea.

  
“If you hate him so much, why are you risking your own life to save him?” Kuina asks.

  
Between one step and the next, the vast meadow fades into a quiet pine forest.

  
“Wouldn’t you do the same?” Sanji says, trying not to think about the shift. “You were his rival too, you know what he’s like.”

  
“I loved him,” Kuina says matter-of-factly. They pass through the pine forest, naturally this time, and step out onto the edge of a field of rice paddies. “Zoro is an idiot, but he was my best friend.”

  
“I don’t know what to call him besides an idiot,” Sanji mutters, “but he’s important to me, too.”

  
Kuina laughs at him, and it makes Sanji grin. This girl understands; the marimo can be a pain, but neither Sanji nor Kuina would change him.

  
The rice paddies stretch on, an endless grid of shallow water and narrow paths. Sanji and Kuina pick their way along, and when Sanji looks back there’s no sign of the forest they passed through. The sun is setting, but so slowly it hardly seems to move.

  
“You’re taking this all very calmly,” Kuina comments after a few moments.

  
Sanji has been trying not to think about it. “We do crazy shit like this all the time. Bringing the marimo back from the dead, that’s just one more.”

  
His bravado is not enough to convince himself, let alone the little girl beside him. She makes a disparaging sound. “I don’t think you’ll make it, if you can’t face up to how serious it is to be here.”

  
Sanji glances down at her smooth dark hair, gleaming in the sunset as she leads the way along the narrow ridge between rice paddies. There’s nothing in front of them, and nothing behind. He wishes he had a cigarette, but doesn’t wish too hard; who knows what might happen.

  
“I don’t really know anything,” Kuina continues, “but you need something real to exist in this place. Wado is real, that’s how I could find you. But I can’t find Zoro for you. I think we might just walk forever, unless you have something strong enough.”

  
Sanji thinks about his crewmates’ tears, their shock and disbelief, and the desperation beneath Luffy’s sunny confidence as he waved Sanji off. “They all need me to bring this idiot back,” he mutters. “You’ve got no idea how much I want to kick his ass for pulling this stunt and making them all cry.”

  
“Focus on that, I guess,” Kuina says. Her voice is dubious as she looks back at him, but Sanji does as she suggested. He pictures the marimo, imagines walking up to the swordsman as he sleeps on the deck and kicking him awake, like any ordinary day. He imagines what it will be like when they come back, Nami wiping her beautiful eyes and Usopp bursting into fresh tears. If their bond isn’t enough to bring him to Zoro, Sanji doesn’t know what else there could be. He doesn’t want to think about life on the Thousand Sunny without the man.

  
They reach the edge of a rice paddy, and the next one vanishes, replaced in one smooth instant by a dirt path up a grassy slope. Sanji can make out the shape of a building behind a screen of trees near the top.

  
Kuina breathes out in a sharp burst, not quite a gasp as she steals another glance at him. They approach the building, which turns out to be a small walled complex, and Sanji resists the urge to hold his breath.

  
Another of Zoro’s swords is leaning against the open entrance. It takes a moment for Sanji to realize why that feels wrong, beyond seeing one of Zoro’s swords left without the swordsman nearby, but then it hits him. This is Yubashiri, the sword Zoro broke at Enies Lobby, the one that turned to rust in his hands.

  
Kuina picks it up. “Careless idiot,” she says. “He better take care of my Wado.”

  
They turn the corner into the courtyard, and the path is lined with swords. A few look familiar, weapons Sanji has seen Zoro snatch up to use in passing, but most are strange to him. Sanji supposes a man like Zoro must encounter a lot of weapons that can’t stand up to his demanding use.

  
“This is my home,” Kuina tells him as they approach the door. Now the path is littered with training swords, and even tree branches and broom handles. “Our dojo. This is… it’s a powerful place for us.”

  
She gives him a long look at that, before reaching for the door. Shusui is braced against the doorframe and she passes it to him as she grasps the handle. From here, Sanji can hear brisk swishes of air and controlled footfalls, the familiar sounds of Zoro’s lighter training.

  
Sanji takes the sword and gulps. It makes him think of Thriller Bark, of the first time he thought they had lost Zoro. The second time? He certainly thought the mosshead would die after Mihawk, but they weren’t nakama then; the fear was not so real. By the time Zoro fought Kuma Sanji knew what they would be missing. He’d gotten an inkling of what he would never have if the swordsman died.

  
Fumbling, Sanji manages to get both of Zoro’s precious swords in one hand, reaching to loosen his tie. The motion is so automatic that he brushes his own bare skin before remembering that he left his tie on the beach. If that’s the case, then why is his throat so tight? He swallows hard, watching Kuina slide the door open.

  
Seeing Zoro there has all the force of when the man attacks him, all the weight and shock of blocking a three-sword slash. He’s doing practice drills in the dimly lit room, running through the familiar sequences with all the usual perfection, Sandai Kitetsu gleaming in his hands.

  
Sanji feels like he might cry, or rush over and hug the swordsman, like he’s Luffy or something. He can’t have that, so he storms across the room instead, stomping over the tatami mats and opening his mouth to yell.

  
Zoro doesn’t so much as twitch, so Sanji loses steam. He looks back to Kuina and her clothes have changed, into some traditional-looking training uniform. She walks into the room with a wooden sword at her hip, and Zoro turns.

  
“Kuina?” he whispers, smooth motions stuttering to a halt. “Then I really am dead.”

  
He’s so calm about it, it makes Sanji furious. Kuina nods, equally solemn. “That’s what this place is.”

  
“Maybe not for good, shit-swordsman!” Sanji snaps. The marimo still hasn’t even looked in his direction. “I had to come haring down here after you, but I don’t want to hang around! We need to get back to the others-”

  
“I’m sorry,” Zoro tells Kuina, gazing at her with singular focus. “I couldn’t- I didn’t become the greatest, I wasn’t strong enough-”

  
“Of course not,” Kuina says. “I’ve always been stronger than you.”

  
Zoro scowls, and levels Kitetsu at her. “One more try.”

  
For a moment Zoro is her own age, a surly child in a rumpled training uniform, with dirt smeared across his cheeks. Kuina glances at Sanji with something like pity on her face, and readies her stance in front of Zoro. Zoro smirks, determined and excited, the familiar expression identical between the superimposed images of the swordsman as he should be, and as he was.

  
The tableau freezes, rippling like a stone dropped in water. The disturbance centers from just beside Sanji, and as he turns he realizes his breath is coming fast and shallow. Zoro is falling back into his old habits so easily, it’s like he doesn’t remember them at all.

  
It’s not surprising to see the Hamartia there. She’s standing beside Sanji like she’s been here the whole time, examining the scene before them with the sort of distant scrutiny Sanji would give to small, inedible creatures.  
“You’re going to fail,” she comments. The ripples wash away, and the dojo is still. Neither Zoro nor Kuina move so much as a breath. Light gleams off Kitetsu’s blade, red in the dimness.

  
Sanji glares at the floor, tightens his grip on Zoro’s swords and tries to control his frantic breathing. “Shitty marimo won’t even look at me.”

  
“You brought that girl here,” the Hamartia says. “Did you think you would be more important than her? Could you even have found your swordsman alone?”

  
“That isn’t right,” Sanji mutters. “I brought us here, and Zoro hasn’t gotten a choice. Not like he should have to choose, it’s not the same thing at all.”

  
There are parallels, though. No matter how unreal this place is, in leaving Zoro will have to decide to leave Kuina behind again. Sanji has never felt lacking as Zoro’s rival, but he can’t help wondering what the swordsman would be like, with Kuina by his side instead. A useless thought, but it rests uneasily on his mind. Zoro loved Kuina, it shines through every infrequent word he says about her. Sanji is just someone the marimo fights with.

  
Kitetsu’s red gleam catches his eye again. It’s the only moving thing in the room, a malicious play of light along the sword’s patterned blade. Sanji bares his teeth, and remembers the things people say about that sword. That it’s cursed, a sword that kills its bearers. He doesn’t really believe in that kind of thing, but the rumors about this island sounded like nonsense too, and Zoro has always treated that sword with an extra edge of caution. It can’t be meaningless here, can’t be a good omen that Sandai Kitetsu is the sword Zoro kept hold of until this moment. Maybe if he can get the sword away from Zoro-

  
“Stop looking for an outside solution,” the Hamartia says. “That is a dark sword, and it is clouding your friend’s sight, but it is only an object. What matters here is the bonds between people. Why did you come?”

  
“To get him back,” Sanji snaps, a little embarrassed. He’s said this so many times, it’s starting to feel empty. “The crew needs him. Luffy needs him, and I’m the only one who could get down here to find the lost idiot.”

  
“So you’re just running errands for your captain? It’s of no matter to you whether you fail?” the Hamartia presses.

  
“Of course it matters! I can’t go back and tell them, oh, I found him but couldn’t get him to see! I can make a difference for them, fix this thing that’s hurting everyone-”

  
“Is this your flaw?” the Hamartia asks. “Why are you failing this way?”

  
Sanji snaps his jaw shut, flexing his fingers where they’ve gone stiff from clenching around Zoro’s swords.

  
“Is it cowardice? Denial? What are you protecting yourself from?”

  
“I’m not afraid-”

  
“You’re so certain you have to do this for the others,” the Hamartia muses. “Do you not deserve to save your beloved friend for yourself? I know you want to. Is it that you’re too selfless to acknowledge what he means to you, or do you think he doesn’t hold the same weight of care for you?”

  
Sanji grits his teeth, thoughts flinching away from her accusations. It’s not a flaw to think of the others first. He and Zoro both do that all the time, throwing themselves between their nakama and danger. As for what the marimo means to him, well. Nakama, rivals, maybe friends. He’s already gone over this with Kuina; Zoro is important to him. He doesn’t want to - can’t, won’t - think more deeply on it. The ways losing Zoro will personally hurt Sanji are barely things he can admit to himself, let alone to this strange girl.

  
“Fine, I want him back,” Sanji grumbles. “For myself. The shit-swordsman keeps me challenged. All those long stretches at sea would be boring without him. But I still don’t like that sword!”

  
The Hamartia laughs at him, the most human she’s seemed. For a moment Sanji is charmed by her sweet expression, hearts bubbling up in his chest. Then she shrugs, and the room begins to move, slowly at first like a ship catching the wind. Zoro takes a first step, still oblivious; Kuina turns to look at Sanji in slow motion. The sun sets outside, and the light leaves Kitetsu’s blade.

  
“That’s all I will do,” the Hamartia whispers. Time snaps back to normal. Sanji can’t tear his eyes from Zoro, but he knows that the Hamartia will be gone if he turns to look. The swordsman blinks, following Kuina’s gaze to Sanji.

  
“Cook?”

  
Sanji feels like crying again, so he tries to kick Zoro in the head. “Took you long enough, idiot marimo!”

  
Of course Zoro blocks him, but kicking Kitetsu out of the way feels almost as good. Kuina snickers, posture relaxing.

  
“I thought you all made it out!” Zoro yells, looking more spooked by the second. “What are you doing here?!”

  
“We did!” Sanji assures him, instead of following up with another kick. “Everyone is safe, your stupid plan worked.”

  
“Not so stupid if it worked,” Zoro says with a relieved sigh. Sanji isn’t in the mood to press the point. He can yell at Zoro for being shortsighted, self-sacrificing, and reckless later. It feels like tempting fate to do it here.

  
“Hardly counts without you around,” he mutters instead, stepping up to Zoro and offering his swords. Zoro blinks, opens his mouth, closes it; he slowly takes the swords from Sanji’s hand and peers at him so intently that Sanji has to look away. He’s not sure what emotions are showing on his face, but he doesn’t want Zoro to see.

  
“I had to do something,” Zoro carefully says.

  
“You’re just lucky this island has a gateway to hell after all,” Sanji retorts.

“Lucky you came to find me,” Zoro comments. “I doubt it’s as simple as that.”

  
Sanji swallows hard, feeling color rising in his cheeks. “Whatever, marimo. Somebody had to do it, and I had help.”

  
“You’ll still have to find the way back,” Kuina says. “Can’t you feel it? This place isn’t meant to let people leave.”

  
“Haven’t let that stop us before,” Zoro says, but the heartbreak is clear on his face as he turns to Kuina.

  
She puts her hands on her hips and stares up at him with a stern frown. “Remember what I told you?”

  
Zoro nods. “I’ll never forget.”

  
“Good. It’s unfair, you know. Nobody gets a second chance like this, so you better not waste it! Make sure you make it back. And you!” she says, turning to Sanji. “Have you figured it out, what you were doing wrong? Wado won’t help you now, so you have to be strong enough on your own.”

  
Sanji jumps, embarrassed. He doesn’t need Zoro wondering about the details of getting here, of getting out. He knows what the truth is, even if he won’t put it into words. Admitting it now will only make a mess.

  
“We’ll make it,” he promises.

  
Kuina hums her approval. “I can’t come with you. This is where I belong.”

  
“I’ll let you say goodbye,” Sanji says, feeling his own heart breaking in sympathy. He can’t quite look at Zoro, doesn’t want to see. This whole thing is way too emotional for the two of them.

  
Stepping away feels terrible. By the time he reaches the door Sanji’s skin is crawling with unease. He puts a hand on the door and looks back, needing to make sure Zoro is still there. It feels like the swordsman might vanish if he goes too far.

  
That fear must show on his face. Sanji can’t bring himself to care; it’s more than fair to be afraid of losing Zoro at this point. The swordsman meets his eyes and nods, just once, but it’s enough. They don’t communicate in words - this assurance is as much as Sanji can handle.

  
“Don’t take too long,” he says, and steps outside. The piles of old swords are gone, leaving the courtyard tidy in the low light of dusk. Sanji walks to the entrance, trying not to look over his shoulder at every step. Leaning against the wall there, he watches fireflies flicker across the rice paddies at the bottom of the hill.

  
His flaw, what he’s doing wrong. Bonds between people and something strong enough to lead them out of here, stronger than death itself. Sanji sighs. He really needs a cigarette; there’s a whole new pack waiting for him in his locker, and he’s going to run for it the second they get out of here. His nerves can’t take much more of this, the uncertainty and painful emotions of it.

  
Sanji doesn’t hold himself back. He wears his emotions openly, and doesn’t hesitate to act on them. He gives all his adoration to women without reserve, and doesn’t hold back with frustrations and irritations against men either. He treats Chopper with affection and shows his love for the crew through his cooking. He’s never had cause to offer more than that to a man, isn’t sure what form these feelings will take, but if he admits their reality to himself he knows he won’t be able to hide it. He won’t be able to keep pretending he feels the same way about Zoro as all the others.

  
It’s obvious. Sanji knows the answer, but he’s never used that word and meant it as deeply as he needs to, for the intensity of this situation. He feels it, has for a while. This place is going to force him to give that feeling a name, and then where will they be?

  
Well, hopefully back on the surface, rejoining their crew. Whatever the consequences are, Sanji is at least confident that they will be easier to cope with than Zoro’s death.

  
His unwanted introspection is interrupted by Zoro’s quiet footsteps. Sanji would say he’s never been so glad to see the marimo if a) the idiot wasn’t the source of all this turmoil in the first place and b) the sheer relief from opening the dojo door to see him only minutes ago wasn't enough to make him want to cry, even in memory.

  
“About time,” Sanji says, forcing a flippant grin instead of a relieved sigh. He doesn’t say anything about the tears on Zoro’s face, and the marimo just rolls his eye and falls into step with Sanji.

  
For a while, neither of them says anything. They walk through the rice paddies, dusk never quite giving way to night, the dojo always visible in the corner of their vision. Zoro twitches every time he sees it.

  
“We going the right way, ero-cook?” the swordsman finally asks.

  
“It’s not like anyone gave me a map,” Sanji mutters.

  
Zoro huffs. “Well, how did you get here in the first place? Can’t we go back the same way?”

  
“I’m trying, shit-swordsman,” Sanji snaps. “Shut up and let me focus.”

  
“Focus on what?”

  
What indeed. He got here by thinking about Zoro; now that the swordsman is found, maybe he should think about where they need to go?

  
Sanji shuts his eyes for a few steps, imagining the Thousand Sunny in as much detail as he can manage. Luffy’s laughter, the music from Brook’s violin, the perfume of Nami’s oranges, the sound of Chopper’s hooves on the deck, Usopp’s nervous posturing, the scents of Franky’s repairs as they drift through the galley windows, Robin’s enigmatic smile.

  
When he opens his eyes, he’s standing at the edge of the pine forest from before, but Zoro is no longer behind him. Sanji spins in shock and spots the swordsman standing on the bank of a rice paddy several rows distant and leaps through the air back to him, using his Sky Walk to clear the water instead of following the neat pathways. Barreling into Zoro, he grabs the marimo’s shoulders in both hands and stands panting, unable to catch his breath past the panic.

  
“Where did you go?” Zoro frowns. “I swear I didn’t wander off, cook, you just weren’t there anymore.”

  
Sanji shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to explain, but the fields he just cleared have vanished again, and the edge of the forest is right at their feet. “I won’t leave you behind again,” he says. The Sunny won’t be home without Zoro. It was wrong to think of it without himself and the swordsman in the picture.

  
“Cook-” Zoro begins, but Sanji lets go of his shoulders, taking one of his hands instead, and leads the marimo into the trees. He imagines a meal in the galley, everyone laughing and shoving Luffy’s hands away from their plates. Zoro is there this time, glancing up at Sanji as he brings more food to the table. It’s a scene Sanji has presided over countless times, easy to picture as they walk.

  
It’s dark, but the trees are widely spaced and the ground is so thick with fallen pine needles that there’s no undergrowth to speak of. The deep loam silences their footsteps, leaving Sanji with nothing to distract him from his whirling thoughts and Zoro’s compliant grip on his hand. They fit well together, and it’s comforting to be certain of the marimo’s presence without having to look back at him every moment.

  
Sanji can feel that word rising in his chest. Holding hands like this feels good, and he wants to smile at Zoro, or lace their fingers together more closely. He wants to get back to the Sunny and celebrate with the others, but he’s already imagining himself giving Zoro extra booze without asking, making the marimo’s favorite snacks as a treat. Later they can spar while Franky fixes the ship; maybe Zoro will explore the island with him to search for supplies. Maybe this feeling will work out, and they can-

  
Stumbling over tall grass, Sanji blinks at the sudden light. They’re back in the meadow, flooded with moonlight bright as day after the forest. Wind rushes across the landscape, throwing the grasses about like waves, and the stars twinkle above them like a flashing school of fish.

  
“How are you doing that?” Zoro asks quietly. He doesn’t let go of Sanji’s hand, and Sanji doesn’t dare break their grip either. “You just got this dreamy look on your face, and the trees all vanished. What were you thinking about?”

  
Sanji runs his free hand through his hair. “None of your business, marimo. I was just thinking about how happy everyone will be when we get back. I bet Luffy is starving, and I can’t believe I haven’t been there to feed my angels-”

  
“Yeah, yeah. Feeding Luffy doesn’t put that look on your face, and you’re not getting a nosebleed, so I doubt it was the girls you were fantasizing about.”

  
“Is it so hard to believe getting you back would make me happy?” Sanji snaps. “You don’t know what it was like for everyone, realizing you were gone.”

  
“I’m not sorry,” Zoro mutters.

  
Sanji understands that. “Let’s just get back.”

  
“So what were you imagining about getting back, to give you that dopey look?” Zoro ribs him as they wade through the meadow.

  
“Oh, the usual,” Sanji says, feeling his cheeks heat despite himself. “Kicking your ass on the beach, making you carry supplies through the jungle.” Kissing in the moonlight, telling Zoro he lo- Sanji shakes his head to dispel those thoughts, stomping through the grass.

  
Zoro is watching him suspiciously when Sanji looks over his shoulder, but they’re still holding hands as easily as ever. “Well, imagine it harder. How much farther do we have to go?”

  
“I don’t know,” Sanji confesses. “When I came… I just swam until I couldn’t swim any more, and then I ended up here. I found your sword on the way down, and Kuina found me here.”

  
“Thanks for that,” Zoro says, and Sanji can’t help looking surprised. “For bringing Wado, and giving me the chance to see Kuina again.”

  
“Don’t thank me. I’m sure you would have seen her here anyway.”

  
“If I had, I bet it would’ve been too late,” Zoro says seriously. “It’s hard to explain, but I think there wasn’t much time. I didn’t see much of anything before you showed up.”

  
“I don’t think I want to know,” Sanji says. Zoro shakes his head. Knowing too much about this place seems like a dangerous idea.

  
“With you there, I knew what I had to go back to,” Zoro continues. “Seeing you reminded me what was important.”

  
Sanji’s heart is ready to burst, unnamed emotions twisting dizzily. Even though Zoro cannot mean that Sanji personally is something important, the words are right on the tip of his tongue. He bites them back but can’t stop his grip from tightening in Zoro’s.

  
They crest a slight rise in the meadow, and instead of endless grass and flowers, a cliff falls away before them. Below their feet the gap is filled with clouds, rolling thick and white for as far as Sanji can see.

  
“I guess I swam down here; that’s the closest thing I can think of to swimming back up,” Sanji says. Zoro makes a discontented sound, but doesn’t disagree.

  
Sanji takes a deep breath and turns to face the swordsman squarely. “Do you trust me?”

  
“Yes,” Zoro says simply, holding Sanji’s gaze. No teasing or taunting or brushing it off, just the one word and certainty radiating off Zoro like sunlight.

  
Love rushes through Sanji so fiercely it feels like panic, like an adrenaline response, like he needs to either fight or run and Sanji never runs from Zoro. He loves Zoro, he loves him so much, needs to bring him out of this place for his own selfish reasons, for all the ways Sanji himself would miss the idiot marimo in his own daily routine, for the private hopes Sanji has been hiding even from himself. And he can, Sanji realizes - this is the kind of strength he needs, this selfish personal desire. Death will have to claw Zoro out of his cold, drowned hands if it wants the swordsman back.

  
“Cook?” Zoro asks, a thread of concern in his voice. Sanji cannot imagine what the swordsman is seeing in his face.

  
The texture of the clouds below them shifts, flatter now with swirls and eddies rippling across the surface. Silver in the moonlight, Sanji can hardly distinguish them from water.

  
“I think we should go,” he says, glancing back to Zoro. There’s a hint of misgiving in the line of the swordsman’s shoulders, but the two of them resettle their grip on each other’s hands and step up to the edge of the cliff together.

  
Sanji doesn’t bother with a countdown. They are used to acting in synch; Zoro follows him into the air in the same heartbeat Sanji moves. Passing through the clouds is nothing more than a wash of damp air. Sanji catches his breath, and the pressure hits.

  
It’s disorienting, so sudden, but Sanji remembers the feeling from his trip down. He can only rely on instinct to tell him which way to kick, gripping Zoro’s hand as tightly as he can and swimming for the surface against the marimo’s weight.

  
Sanji swims as fast as he can, and the pressure begins to ease; faint shards of light appear in the cold blackness. Still his lungs are beginning to burn, his progress hampered by Zoro’s dead weight, and that’s a terrible thought, that he might be bringing nothing more than their swordsman’s mortal shell back to the surface. Even though Zoro is a strong swimmer this is a terrific depth, and Sanji barely made it unencumbered… He forces those thoughts away and kicks, focus narrowed to only that.

  
He breaks the surface, gasping for breath so deeply it hurts, and drags Zoro up against himself. The water is still and cold, the smooth calm of night, and so is Zoro. Frantic, though he’s been panicked and frantic so much since the storm that he hardly feels different, Sanji does what he can to shove Zoro’s head up, and thumps at the marimo’s back as hard as he can while supporting them both above the Lost Blue.

  
Finally, Zoro chokes and sputters, coughing up half the ocean into Sanji’s hair. Sanji’s eyes sting from more than the salt, and as relief relaxes him he can hear shouting from the shore.

  
By the time Sanji can brush the sand with his toes, Zoro is more than dead weight against him and Luffy has tried rushing into the shallows to get them three times. Luckily Usopp is there to drag him out; most of the crew is assembled on the beach, calling to them and milling about anxiously. Once he’s gotten their shoulders above water Luffy stops trying to come to them, and grabs them out of the ocean by main force. Rolling out of Luffy’s grasp, Sanji tries to make sense of his nakama’s excited voices, struggling to push himself up on arms that are suddenly far too weak.

  
He can hear Zoro still coughing near his ear, Chopper’s shrill voice cutting through the rest of the noise, Luffy yelling right above him. It’s all too much. The tension and struggle catch up to him all at once; Sanji empties his stomach onto the sand and passes out.

  
He wakes naturally, his internal clock saying it’s time to start breakfast. When he opens his eyes he finds himself on the couch in the galley, with Robin reading by lamplight at the counter.

  
“Welcome back,” she says, closing her book and smiling at him. Sanji whines a little, overwhelmed by such a gentle greeting from one of his angels so soon after waking in an unexpected place. Memories of the last day flood through him and it’s all he can do to listen to Robin’s soft reassurance.

  
“Chopper said you were just exhausted, but he still felt you ought to have someone nearby,” she explains. “Our doctor is with Zoro in the infirmary, although it seems Swordsman-san is also merely overstrained. Chopper doesn’t expect any lasting damage.”

  
Sanji closes his eyes again, laying back against the couch. He feels wrung out, and Robin’s words released a knot of tension he hadn’t realized was there. “Zoro’s okay,” he murmurs.

  
“He will be fine,” Robin confirms. “You did a very brave and difficult thing, Cook-san. Well done.”

  
Sanji doesn’t have the energy to fall over himself at the praise, but he does open his eyes to look at Robin. She’s watching him seriously, with one of those knowing smiles that cut through anyone’s defenses. “I barely made it.”

  
“I don’t think that how easily you succeeded matters here,” Robin tells him. “You brought Zoro back. That is both everything, and the least we expected of you.”

  
Well, that’s the kind of pragmatism Sanji expects from Robin, marvellously rational woman that she is. He’s just not sure if it’s reassuring. He feels like he expected more of himself.

  
“Although,” Robin continues, placing her chin in one hand and tilting her head at him, “Perhaps what matters is what you experienced. Did you learn anything about yourself, Cook-san? It seems that visiting a facsimile of death itself might bestow a certain enlightenment.”

  
Her expression says that only a fool would walk away from that experience without learning something, and that she already knows what he learned. Sanji winces. “It’s a lot to process,” he hedges. “Though I’m sure you’re right, Robin-chan!”

  
“Don’t fall back into old habits,” she advises. “I’ll tell Chopper you’re awake. He was adamant that you get a full physical once you woke.”

  
Robin walks out, leaving Sanji with an embarrassed flush and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He doesn’t think he could go back if he wanted to. He’s not sure if he wants to. Now that he’s admitted the depth of his feelings for their swordsman, there’s no hiding from it.

  
There’s a certain lightness to that, an open window with a breeze blowing through. Robin would surely agree that knowing is better than not, if Sanji explained it, but he’s not ready to share this feeling. This love. Just because he’s revealed the truth to himself doesn’t mean he knows what to do with it.

  
Chopper doesn’t give him time to figure it out, barrelling through the door so fast he stumbles over his own hooves, a thousand questions spilling from his mouth. “Sanji! How are you feeling? What happened? Do you have a headache? Is your chest sore? How deep did you swim, you might have gotten decompression sickness, do you know how dangerous that is? Does your blood feel normal? I-”

  
“I’m fine,” Sanji interrupts, instead of asking how he’s supposed to tell if his blood feels normal. “Nothing feels weird.”

  
“You must be tired, and I’m sure you’re dehydrated,” Chopper prattles, poking and prodding at Sanji with his sharp little hooves and cold stethoscope. “You should take it easy. Just because you and Zoro got back without any broken bones this time doesn’t mean you can just go do whatever you want, who knows-”

  
“The shitty marimo’s okay?” Sanji asks. Robin said he was, but…

  
“He’s acting like nothing happened,” Chopper grumbles. “He was dead! I guess. There’s not much sign of anything, but he did nearly drown! He should let his lungs rest, but you know Zoro.”

  
“Yeah. What, is he off training already?”

  
“He’s cleaning his swords. He could at least stay inside! It’s so sunny outside, it would strain even a healthy person, but no! Zoro has to sit out in the sun, he’s gonna get heat stroke, you can’t be too careful after-”

  
“Just make sure he gets water,” Sanji soothes. “I’ll make breakfast, then he’ll have to come in. What do you want?”

  
Chopper is obviously torn between getting Zoro to safety and allowing Sanji to strain himself.

  
“Crepes?” Sanji offers. Chopper starts drooling, stars in his eyes.

  
“Just don’t work too hard! Sit down if you need to!” their little doctor instructs, but it’s hard to take him seriously like that. Sanji laughs and gets up, feeling a little stiff but mostly just disheveled in his day-old outfit. It’s crisp with salt in places and his shirt is probably ruined.

  
“I’ll just go change first,” Sanji says, and heads to the bunkroom for fresh clothes.

  
He can hear the light whisking sounds of Zoro tending his swords on the upper deck. It’s startling how soothing the sound is, how familiar. Sanji isn’t ready to face the swordsman just yet, but hearing him doing something so normal settles his nerves.

  
Luffy and Usopp are still asleep, and Sanji manages to sneak through getting his clothes and washing up without seeing any more of his nakama. Chopper has vanished when he gets back to the kitchen, so Sanji has a few minutes to start cooking in peace. Of course, as soon as he starts cooking the necessary meat side dishes for the meal, Luffy comes bouncing in the door.

  
“Sanji! You did it, I knew you would!” Luffy clings to him, pouting; Sanji does his best to keep his spatula out of his captain’s hair, and lowers the heat on the stove. “Chopper wouldn’t let me come see you, it was so mean.”

  
“Everyone needed some sleep,” Sanji says, trying to be gentle. This has been a horrific situation for all of them, so he can put up with some grabby behavior from Luffy. It’s nice in a way - it reaffirms that Sanji really did make it back. “Have you seen Zoro?”

  
Luffy nods, voice muffled as he presses into Sanji’s shirt. “I snuck in last night while Chopper was with you. All this sleeping is boring, I want to play.”

  
“He’s awake now,” Sanji says. Luffy perks up, but before Sanji can elaborate the mossy idiot in question ambles into the galley.

  
“ZORO!” Luffy yells, springing over the counter to get to him. Sanji sighs at the wrinkles in his fresh shirt, and watches Zoro catch their captain in midair. “Never do that again!”

  
“I’ll do my best,” Zoro rumbles, in the low soft tone he only uses with Luffy.

  
Sanji turns back to cooking, letting them have their moment. To his surprise Luffy pulls the swordsman back into the kitchen, hopping upon a bare stretch of counter and dragging Zoro between his knees. The marimo stands there awkwardly with Luffy’s head on top of his own and their captain’s rubber legs wrapped around him.

  
“Keep your hands to yourself,” Sanji warns, leerily eyeing them. Under ordinary circumstances he would never let Luffy this close while he’s cooking.

  
Luffy nods, jostling Zoro’s head as he does. “Promise!”

  
The marimo scowls and Luffy keeps talking, a random stream of consciousness with no real substance. It’s relaxing, Luffy’s cheerful chatter and Zoro’s occasional grunt of agreement. It feels normal.

  
When the sausages are about half cooked Luffy gives in to temptation, and Sanji is grounded enough that he doesn’t feel bad kicking the rubber idiot and Zoro out. Luffy laughs, Zoro curses, and Sanji can hear Franky’s emotional exclamation when he spots the two of them. Wincing, Sanji realizes that breakfast is going to be even more dramatic than usual.

  
As everyone files in at his call, Usopp and Franky are both crying. Chopper is sniffling and trying to make Zoro submit to more tests, which is difficult with Luffy still hanging off the man. Even Nami’s eyes are suspiciously damp, and Robin watches Zoro and Sanji with a much softer gaze than usual. Brook seems a bit spooked, alternating between crying with the others and gazing at them with a solemn air.

  
Sanji flips crepes and prepares coffee, dices fruit and scrambles eggs, garnishes all of it with above-average flair and acts like everything is back to normal. There’s something… he doesn’t want to give away what he’s feeling, not yet. He needs to talk to Zoro before he can finish processing everything, but before he can do that he needs to figure out what to say.

  
The swordsman watches him more than usual during the meal, but seems to have a similar attitude about the whole thing. He’s gentle with their nakama’s relief, but doesn’t act like anything happened. That seems to be what everyone needs - by the time breakfast is over, most of the tears have stopped.

  
“Thank you, Sanji-kun,” Nami says as she leaves, and the words have more weight than the meal warrants.

  
Sanji resists the urge to flutter over her and responds seriously. “Of course, Nami-san.”

  
She steps out of Franky’s way and crosses her arms. “If you- Well. I know it can’t have been easy, Sanji. Robin told me everything. We’re here if you need someone to talk to.”

  
Swooning a little, Sanji takes that shining offer to heart. Nami-san is so kind! He’s just nervous about what Robin might have told her, in her all-knowing wisdom. “Nami-swan~! I don’t deserve your compassion! Please, don’t worry about me, but maybe I could bring you a special treat later, in your-”

  
“Shut up, Sanji-kun,” Nami says, but there’s a smile in her voice as she rolls her eyes at him.

  
Brook stays to help with the dishes, but the skeleton is unusually quiet. Once the table is cleared and the dishes stacked to wash and Sanji hasn’t heard a single skull joke, he begins to worry.

  
“Brook?” he asks. “You, uh… is everything okay?”

  
The skeleton startles a little, rattling a plate against the bones of his fingers as he fumbles with it. “Ah, Sanji-san, don’t concern yourself, I am merely-”

  
“Out with it,” Sanji says. He just gave Nami that same line; it’s not the thing you say when everything is fine.

  
Brook hesitates, turning to look at him with his empty eye sockets. “Oho, it is simply that this place raises memories that cut deeply, not that I have anything much to cut-”

  
“All the death stuff,” Sanji realizes. “I guess I should have known, huh.”

  
“I am overjoyed that you brought Zoro-san back to us,” Brook says softly. “It is a thing I thought impossible, despite - or perhaps because of - my own unusual circumstances. Even though I could feel the strangeness of these islands in my bones, oho, I did not believe such a thing could work.”

  
Sanji thinks about that. If it was only the eerie island and Sanji’s unexpected success, he doubts Brook would be so unsettled. Sure, he gets as jumpy as Usopp when it comes to small stuff, but Brook is one of their most level-headed nakama when it counts.

  
“It makes you think of your old crew,” he realizes, and winces. That was callous, even for him. “Sorry, that’s probably not-”

  
“Yes. If you could raise Zoro from the dead with no devil’s power, just the strength of your bond, then…” Brook sighs. “If death is not as final as we have all known, it is more difficult to accept my own loss.”

  
“Shit,” Sanji mutters. He doesn’t have the words for that kind of regret.

  
“I have made peace with their loss before,” Brook says. “This too will pass. But Sanji-san, will you do something for me?”

  
Sanji nods. He certainly can’t refuse under these circumstances.

  
“My own unusual death made me realize the importance of my nakama,” Brook tells him seriously. “You have protected the rest of them from that lesson. What I would see you do is not waste that. Make sure you realize the value of what we have here.”

  
Sanji swallows hard and nods again. “Yeah, sure.”

  
It’s an inadequate answer, but Brook seems to see what he needs in Sanji’s face. “Oho! Well then, Sanji-san, these dishes will not wash themselves! We had best finish before Luffy-san needs us!”

  
The skeleton still seems down, but the atmosphere is much lighter. Sanji is relieved. He’s not good at heart-to-heart, or heart-to-ribcage, chats.

  
Once they’re finished Sanji decides to do an extra round of special drinks. All of his nakama seem a little more grateful to see him than usual, and they’re all lingering up on deck near where Zoro is. Franky is working on some project even Sanji can tell would be easier to do in his workshop, Robin has moved her lawn chair to the edge of the railing beneath Nami’s trees, Chopper is busily studying and trying to keep his notes from blowing away. The marimo is training outside instead of up in the crow’s nest, and even though the rest of the crew are ostensibly engaged in their own activities, Sanji catches them all sneaking glances at the swordsman, like they can’t quite believe he’s back with them.

  
Sanji himself stops to have a cigarette just a few paces downwind of the marimo, so he’s guilty too. Well, who can blame them? The short time Zoro was gone was shocking and horrible.

  
“Beach party,” Luffy declares, jumping up onto the railing beside Sanji, who inhales his cigarette in surprise.

  
“Shit,” he chokes, coughing up the cigarette. Zoro looks up from his training and snickers, so Sanji flips him off. With watering eyes he turns back to Luffy, perched on the rail with a mildly curious expression.

  
“What’d you do that for? Anyway. Beach party, to celebrate. Meat! We’ll invite the ham-lady and say thank you for helping us.”

  
One of these days Sanji will strangle his captain. “What, you think I’ll just make you a feast any time you ask?”

  
He will, and Luffy knows it. So Sanji ambles inside to take stock of their supplies, while Luffy rattles around alerting their nakama. Looks like they did some fishing while he was gone, and they just restocked at the last island, so there’s no problem.

  
Sanji comes back on deck to start moving supplies just in time to hear Brook assuring Luffy he won’t feel left out. It makes sense - Brook doesn’t want to meet the Hamartia, and he probably can’t set foot on the island anyway, but Sanji still feels bad for him. Maybe Brook needs some time alone, but Sanji can’t help thinking that being with the rest of them would be better for him. Well, whatever the case, it’s only one evening. They’ll all be stuck on the ship with each other soon enough. If Brook is still upset Luffy will weasel it out eventually.

  
The water is as turquoise blue as ever, but now Sanji can better appreciate the beauty of it. Usopp helps him ferry supplies in the Mini Merry, and before long they’ve found a perfect stretch of beach. The Sunny’s mast is just visible above the trees, a little way along the curve of the island.

  
Sanji sets up a cooking fire and Usopp builds an egregiously large bonfire nearby. Franky takes a break and joins them, constructing a circle of rough benches. They’re pros at this, all of them, and it takes hardly any time at all to get everything thrown together.

  
Soon enough Luffy is running down the sand, dragging Zoro behind him. “Come on, come on, let’s go get the ham-lady!”

  
“The who?” Zoro asks.

  
“Shishishi! She told us where you were! She lives in this weird old ship, it’s so cool! Come on!”

  
Sanji crouches behind one of the boxes Usopp helped him move as they pass. He’s not hiding, nope, he just has to make sure the label is right, that’s all. He can’t start cooking if they’ve missed any ingredients, after all.  
Usopp peers out from behind a palm tree as the two disappear around the curve of the island. “Won’t they get lost?”

  
“It was pretty easy to get there,” Sanji says doubtfully. “There’s only one stream.”

  
A crash echoes through the jungle.

  
“Doesn’t sound like they’re following a stream,” Usopp comments.

  
“At least this is a small island,” Robin says, appearing beside them. Usopp jumps, smacks himself on the arch of the tree he was hiding behind, and tumbles into the sand.

  
“Luffy will find his way back once I start cooking,” Sanji predicts. “Can I get you a drink, Robin-chwan? We’ve got all kinds of fresh fruit-”

  
“I believe Nami wanted to get a look around,” Robin says smoothly. “We’ll be back soon, Cook-san.”

  
Well, that excuses Sanji from doing anything but his cooking prep. Franky is tinkering with the bonfire setup, and Usopp and Chopper run around the edge of the forest, examining the plants and looking for bugs. It’s almost peaceful.

  
He starts a few kabobs, and as soon as the smell of roasting meat begins to permeate the air Luffy lunges out of the jungle. Sanji intercepts him with a kick and grinds their captain into the beach with his heel, looking past him into the trees.

  
The Hamartia glows like a ghost in the dim jungle, so much so that Sanji nearly misses the marimo beside her. Of course, why would he want to look at the marimo when there’s a lovely lady to admire… Sanji can’t summon up his usual enthusiasm for the idea. Even though the Hamartia helped them she’s still indescribably eerie, and Sanji can’t get enough of seeing the marimo alive and back with them.

  
“It is an unexpected pleasure to see you again,” the Hamartia says, ignoring Luffy’s whining with as much poise as the crew.

  
“We can’t thank you enough for your help, my lady,” Sanji replies, giving her a bow.

  
Beside her, Zoro scowls. Sanji wonders if they talked on the way here, what she might have told the swordsman.

  
“Luffy said you live in a ship?” Franky asks. “What kind? Did you have to reinforce it yourself? Is it-”

  
The Hamartia lets Franky and Usopp draw her into a conversation, though Usopp picks a spot partially concealed around Franky’s mechanical bulk and peers at her in a way that is really very rude, Sanji should tell him off for that. But Luffy is still trying to stretch to the meat, and Robin and Nami have reappeared just down the beach, and suddenly he’s too busy to worry about it. Drinks to fix, food to prepare, attention for his angels and the occasional kick for his captain.

  
Zoro helps him hold a tray so he can still fend Luffy off, an island of calm in the whirl of excited chatter. Sanji nods to him, tossing their captain as far out of the way as he can before taking the tray and offering the first bites to the ladies.

  
Eventually, Sanji can sit down for a minute. Everyone has enough food, their drinks are full, and it’s safe to let the next round of kabobs cook unattended for a bit.

  
“Hammie says she’s never seen anyone make it back, Cook-bro! SUPER job!”

  
The Hamartia looks surprised by the nickname. In the firelight she looks nearly human, her hair tinged red like Nami’s and her skin adopting a golden hue. Sanji swoons a little.

  
“A heroic success, though your captain insists that you are not heroes,” she says, with a secretive smile. “The stuff of legends.”

  
“I knew Sanji would do it,” Luffy grumbles.

  
Robin laughs. “Who shall we tell of your valiant deeds, Cook-san? Perhaps Skeleton-san will write you a ballad.”

  
“Who would want to listen to a song about the ero-cook?” Zoro asks with a smirk.

  
“Better me than you, shit-swordsman! Ballads should be written about gentlemen!”

  
“The Great Captain Usopp has many ballads to his name-”

  
“Really, Usopp?! Sing us one!” Chopper gasps.

  
Sanji rolls his eyes, sees Zoro do the same, and offers Nami another drink as she tells Usopp exactly what she’ll do to him if he tries to sing another song about the defeat of the Eight-Headed Starback Snail, or whatever it is this time. Franky pulls out his guitar and it’s all downhill from there, without Brook to offer some actual musical talent. Soon enough Luffy and Chopper are dancing along and Nami is grinning as she watches them.

Standard stuff, the bickering and teasing and raucous jokes. Sanji always enjoys their parties, and this one is extra heartening. They’re lucky.

  
The Hamartia comes up to him as he prepares a simple dessert. “I’m glad you returned,” she says. “Your crew shares a special bond, as you said. If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s you.”

  
“Thank you,” Sanji says, taking in her serene gaze and the deep sincerity in her strange eyes. He pauses, but maybe it’s right to tell her. “I learned something important.”

  
Glancing back at the crew, he can see Zoro and Robin watching them with identical inscrutable expressions. Robin will guess at the meaning of their conversation, he’s sure, but there’s no way the marimo will get it.

  
“Took you long enough,” the Hamartia laughs. “Shouldn’t you have known ages ago? Better late than never.”

  
“It was almost too late.” Sanji has avoided thinking about that. He almost lost this feeling forever, would have had to come to terms with it alongside the swordsman’s loss.

  
“Don’t take it for granted,” the Hamartia orders. Sanji nods.

  
It’s a good thing she won’t be coming with them. Between her and Robin he would have far too much tough advice, and no secrets left.

“I’ll leave you to your celebration,” she says, glancing between the dark jungle and roaring bonfire. “It has been a joy to experience this with you.”

  
Sanji doesn’t know what to say to that, so he murmurs some platitude and kisses her hand, letting her make her goodbyes to the rest of the crew. Luffy invites her to join their crew, and she refuses; Franky and Usopp ask to visit her ship-home in the morning, and she says she has plenty of things they could fix. Nami kisses her cheek and Robin smiles at her, a warm, genuine smile that Sanji rarely sees offered to anyone outside their crew. The Hamartia gets an incongruously tearful hug from Chopper and a dismissive grunt from Zoro, and slips away into the trees.

  
“What did she do?” Zoro asks. “Luffy says you met her before swimming down to find me, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

  
“Oh?” Robin asks. Sanji winces. No doubt he’ll spend hours telling Robin about the Lost Blue and what he saw there - an unparalleled joy he’s certainly looking forward to, spending time with her! - and she’ll learn far more than whatever he says.

  
“I saw her at the dojo,” Sanji says. Zoro blinks in surprise, and the curiosity in Robin’s eyes is deep enough to drown in. “She gave me some advice I badly needed.”

  
“SANJI!” Luffy yells, breaking the moment. “I’m still hungry, is there more?” Sanji has never been so relieved to feed his captain more meat.

  
Luffy sits down practically in Sanji’s lap once he has it, possessively leaning against him and staring at Zoro across the fire. The marimo looks ready for a nap, one arm around Chopper and his eye half-closed.

  
Once the food is gone and the fires are burned down to coals, Franky gathers up the crates they’d used for supplies and most of the crew goes back to the Sunny.

  
“I’ll just finish cleaning up,” Sanji says. There’s nothing left to clean up, since he already packed his cooking implements into one of the crates Franky is lugging away. Nothing but the swordsman feigning sleep on the far side of the bonfire.

  
Nami nods, shooting the pair of them a look, and shoves Luffy toward the Mini Merry. Robin picks up their sleepy doctor and follows. From his spot slouched against one of Franky’s log benches, Zoro cracks his eye open to watch them go.

  
Wandering over to Zoro, Sanji drops to the sand next to the marimo and lights a cigarette. They sit in silence, Zoro’s eye barely open as Sanji smokes, moonlight sparkling on the ocean.

  
“Surprised you’re not telling me off for reckless heroics,” Zoro says quietly.

  
Sanji sighs. “Maybe later. It’s a little too real right now.”

  
Zoro chuckles at that, but his gaze on Sanji is serious. “This really got to you, huh.”

  
“I said it… down there,” Sanji mutters. “Getting you back was important to me. We need you here.”

  
He still hasn’t figured out what to tell the marimo. It’s clear that Zoro knows something’s up; the two of them can never sit still like this. The calm is an obvious invitation to spill it.

  
“Important to you?” Zoro prompts, and Sanji reviews what he just said. Well, that’s hard to take back. Not that he should take it back, when he means it so truly. But they’re not honest with each other any more than they’re still. It’s hard.

  
“I swam into death for you,” Sanji says.

  
“Not just anyone would have,” Zoro agrees. “Or could have pulled it off.”

  
Sanji finishes his cigarette and stretches, turning to actually look at the marimo. “Damn right.”

  
“What were you imagining, on the way back?”

  
“Something a lot like this,” Sanji admits.

  
Zoro sits up properly. Sanji hadn’t realized how close they were, their shoulders brushing as the swordsman reaches to take Sanji’s hand in his. His heart thumps hard in his chest. Maybe he doesn’t have to say anything else.

  
“You were the one doing something reckless,” Zoro says. “I don’t know how you could believe that would work. I still don’t understand why it did.”

  
This idiot. The answer is right there. “This is why,” Sanji replies, and closes the space between them to kiss the marimo.

  
He leaves it at just a quick press of lips, drawing back to look at the swordsman with their fingers still tangled together. Zoro looks startled but pleased, like he’s gotten something better than he hoped for. As he should; the marimo better not have expected Sanji to kiss him! Really, it’s ridiculous that he did, how has he come to-

  
Zoro mirrors the action before Sanji can process having done it. “Me too,” he breathes against Sanji’s lips.

  
“I love you,” Sanji confesses. Isn’t this going in the wrong order? Shouldn’t Zoro repeat him now, not earlier? “That’s why. I had to confront it, before we could leave.”

  
Making a sound of agreement, the marimo wraps his arms around Sanji and presses his face against his neck. Sanji puts his arms around Zoro’s shoulders in turn. He’s so warm and solid, so real. So alive.

  
“You’d better appreciate it,” Sanji continues, trying to cover his nerves with arrogance. “How I fell for a muscle-headed mossball like you I’ll never know, but you would’ve been stuck for good without me.”

  
“I think your act of heroism deserves a reward,” Zoro murmurs against his neck, breath more humid than the tropical air around them. Sanji shivers.

  
“Don’t let Luffy hear you say that.”

  
Zoro scoffs. “I think he’d agree with me. We may not be heroes, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t save my life. Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you.”

  
Sanji is a little more concerned with the idea of their captain encouraging Zoro to reward Sanji with sexual favors, which seems to be where the marimo is going with this.

  
It’s all going so fast. Sure, some of this has been swirling in the back of his mind for a long time, but the whole picture is so new.

  
“If you’re just thanking me-”

  
“As if,” the marimo grumbles. The sound rolls through Sanji, held close as he is.

  
“Had to check,” Sanji manages.

  
“I mean it,” Zoro says, shifting back and putting his hands on Sanji’s waist. They kiss again, more deliberate, and Sanji threads his fingers through Zoro’s hair to hold him steady. “Can I?”

  
Vague. Sanji doesn’t know what Zoro wants, but he can always kick the marimo someplace very sensitive if he doesn’t like it. “Yeah.”

  
Another swift kiss and Zoro moves down his jaw to his throat, one hand untucking Sanji’s shirt and the other unbuttoning his collar. Sanji pets Zoro’s hair and props himself up on his other arm. It’s a little strange to just let Zoro do this, but it feels good, so…

  
Down, down, down, and once Sanji’s shirt is out of the way Zoro puts his hands back on Sanji’s hips, fingers tucked possessively into the waistband of his slacks. He’s never been kissed like this; has hardly imagined being paid so much attention. How could he when it’s nothing like he’s ever experienced?

  
Despite that inexperience, it’s clear now what the marimo has in mind. The way he’s mouthing down Sanji’s torso, all soft warm touches that send shivers across every inch of his skin, is hard to misinterpret. Zoro nips at his ribs and Sanji squirms, surprised by his own sensitivity.

  
He must have made a noise, because Zoro looks up with flushed cheeks and a questioning expression. “Cook?”

  
“It’s good,” Sanji says, sounding breathless, and twitches at the honesty. “Don’t get a big head, marimo!”

  
“Of course not,” Zoro purrs, with an overconfident smirk that ought to piss Sanji off, but it’s just sexy alongside the marimo’s half-lidded eye and reddened lips. He strokes one hand inward, following the line of Sanji’s hip to his lower stomach, and ticks his thumb against Sanji’s fly. “Want more?”

  
“Are you sure?” Of course he wants more. No one has ever offered him what Zoro so blatantly is, but only hours ago Zoro was dead, and even yesterday they were hardly friends.

  
The marimo catches on to the seriousness of Sanji’s question, and sits up a little. “I want to,” Zoro answers firmly. “I’ve wanted to before now. I never thought you’d say yes.”

  
Sanji blinks at that, startled out of the moment. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

  
“Didn’t want you to,” Zoro mutters. “Can we talk about it later? I’m trying to blow your mind here.”

  
“Go ahead and try,” Sanji retorts, absolutely failing to sound challenging or confident or anything besides desperate, really.

  
Zoro gets a hungry look on his face and leans up to kiss him, licking into Sanji’s mouth with skill that leaves him shaking. He pushes Sanji down onto the sand and it’s a relief to go, even though Sanji is sure he’ll be ashamed of complying so easily later. Right now, he’s not sure how much longer he could have supported his own weight on one arm. This way he can get both hands into Zoro’s hair, stroke along his jaw, pet the back of his neck. The marimo isn’t quite leaning his full weight on Sanji but it’s still overwhelming, how broad and solid the man is above him.

  
Sanji’s mind skitters away from that thought a little. Something else he’ll have to come to terms with, more than just being in love with Zoro. It can wait, though. This experience is enough of a revelation.

  
“They’re gonna hear you screaming back on the ship,” Zoro promises, spreading Sanji’s legs and getting between them.

  
Generally they threaten to make each other scream for a very different reason. Sanji won’t be able to think of the phrase the same way after this, but maybe that’s fine. This isn’t a one-night thing; he doesn’t have to go back to how they were before.

  
Sanji presses his inner thighs against Zoro’s ribcage as the marimo kisses his abdomen, then bites at his hip and sucks a mark there. Zoro slides his fingers back under Sanji’s slacks, stroking back and forth, a little farther each time. Propping himself up on his elbows, Sanji takes a few panting breaths and tries to gather a thought.

  
It’s impossible to concentrate on anything but how Zoro looks between his legs, head perilously close to the fly of Sanji’s slacks. “Gonna do it or not, marimo? What happened to making me scream?”

  
“Thought you’d be the type to like a little extra foreplay,” Zoro retorts, meeting his eyes. “Isn’t that more romantic, love-cook?”

  
Zoro doesn’t wait for an answer. That’s the end of the prelude - he goes straight for Sanji’s slacks, tossing his legs around and pulling them off so fast it leaves Sanji a little dizzy. Zoro’s own shirt and Sanji’s underwear vanish somewhere in the rush of movement too, and Sanji frowns a little at the feeling of sand under his bare skin. Well, they’re pirates; he can’t exactly expect much different, but he’s going to have to get Zoro into a bed or at least indoors soon.

  
The feeling of Zoro’s skin against his own is much better. Zoro’s hands are rough on Sanji’s thighs, and the contact is electrifying. Everything is so immediate; Sanji isn’t used to this kind of touch. The way he dresses, he doesn’t get much skin-to-skin contact. So it’s only natural that he can’t hold still, squirming in the marimo’s grip.

  
“So sensitive,” Zoro says, and before Sanji can kick him for it the marimo licks his cock. Sanji yelps, and claps a hand over his mouth.

  
“Go ahead,” Zoro coaxes. “Give me something nice to listen to, curly.”

  
Sanji’s indignant retort becomes a startled moan when Zoro puts his mouth to better use than talking. He can’t concentrate on keeping quiet and there’s no reason to; if Zoro wants to hear him then they’re both getting the best of this deal. Instead he tries not to jerk and kick Zoro too hard when the marimo shoulders under one of Sanji’s legs, lying closer and wrapping his arm around Sanji’s thigh.

  
It takes a minute for Sanji to gather himself enough to track where the marimo’s other hand has gone, down to the fastenings of Zoro’s own stupid, baggy pants. The image sends every other thought flying out of his head, leaving him with nothing but the sight of Zoro touching himself while sucking Sanji off, and the stunning way that feels.

  
“You’re enjoying this?” Sanji asks. The words send a thrill through him. He knows they’re true.

  
Zoro hums in agreement, flicking his eye up to look at Sanji without moving his mouth. It’s enough to convey smugness, in the half-second before Sanji’s head hits the sand, overcome by the sensation.

  
“Almost as much as you are,” Zoro says, still without pulling away, and that should be impossible. Or illegal, not that petty issues of legality can stop the marimo. The movement of his tongue, the affirmation and sheer brash confidence, the strength in his grip as Sanji tries to buck up into his mouth - it’s all far too much.

  
Sanji closes his eyes and moans, bracing one hand against the bench behind them and grabbing at Zoro’s hair with the other. Zoro makes a pleased sound when he pulls a little, and Sanji files that away for later. Right now he’s going to come, he should probably say something-

  
Zoro chooses that moment to swallow around him, face pressed all the way against Sanji’s skin, and all Sanji can do is cry out. It’s not a scream, he won’t admit that, but his throat feels a little hoarse as he pants, open-mouthed, and watches Zoro lick his way off of him.

  
The marimo kneels up and licks his lips, intolerably smug. He then wipes his mouth with his hand, releasing Sanji’s hip, and wipes both hands on his pants. Sanji goes from hazy afterglow to conflicted horror instantly. He missed Zoro’s orgasm - the marimo just wiped come all over himself - they’re both out on the beach with their dicks out where anyone could see - he’s never had sex like that before and that wasn’t even the real deal, what will actually making love with the marimo be like - why would he ever want to do that with this disgusting mossball - he wants to do it again right now-

  
“Breath,” Zoro says sharply, whacking Sanji’s bare knee.

  
“I love you,” Sanji says, and how did his brain filter that out of all the thoughts racing through his head? “But if you touch me again without washing your hands I’ll kill you.”

  
Zoro looks surprised, and then laughs. Sanji sits up and smiles, more charmed than he wants to let on. It’s not often he gets the marimo like this, purely happy and laughing without barbs.

  
It makes him want to kiss the idiot and that’s a thing they do now, so he does. Pulling Zoro in by the back of his neck, Sanji swats the swordsman’s hands away when he reaches for him.

  
“What did I just say?” Sanji growls against Zoro’s lips. Zoro snickers and holds his hands up in mock defeat, leaning into the kiss.

  
As much as Sanji would like to just do nothing but this for hours, he’s becoming uncomfortably aware of the sand, sticking to their damp skin. He’s not sure where his pants are, and the pros of staying out here on the beach are starting to lose to the cons.

  
“At least let me rinse off if you won’t let me touch,” Zoro eventually says, mouth trailing off Sanji’s toward his ear. Sanji shivers. He’s almost forgotten why Zoro’s hands are hovering just off his skin instead of holding him closer.

  
“Let’s go have a real bath,” he suggests. “Where did you throw my clothes, marimo?”

  
“Dunno,” Zoro says, standing and putting his own pants to rights. It’s fine for him; Zoro wanders around shirtless a good half of the time, he can reappear on the ship like this and no one will notice. Sanji cannot do the same in an unbuttoned shirt and nothing else.

  
“Help me look!” Sanji snaps. “You’re the one who lost them, if you threw my nice slacks in the ocean I’ll-”

  
“You’ll what?” Zoro asks, lazily sweeping his gaze across the sand.

  
“Make sure you don’t get into them again,” Sanji mutters. Zoro scoffs, and retrieves Sanji’s pants from where they caught on a nearby log.

  
Zoro grabs at his ass as Sanji puts them on, but has the marimo washed yet? No! So Sanji kicks him, and ends up getting his freshly reacquired clothes soaked in the ocean as they grapple.

  
“Don’t die again, marimo,” Sanji says, once they’ve calmed down.

  
Zoro looks at him askance as they start back toward the ship. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  
“We all know how your plans go,” Sanji retorts, but it’s still a little sore. “Just don’t. I won’t come save you again.”

  
“I won’t make you do that,” Zoro says, bumping Sanji’s shoulder. “Thanks though.”

  
“Any time,” Sanji sighs. Zoro not calling him out on immediately contradicting himself is the truest declaration of love he’s gotten all evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed - let me know ;) I'm always happy to refine my characterization and overall flow, so don't hesitate to tell me if anything seems off.


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